


Plotting Course

by ThreadSketchier



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Luke is a dork, Twue Wuv, actually they're both dorks, but lbr here it kinda is, don't say it with diamonds say it with lightsabers, ok it's a little soon for a proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 02:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreadSketchier/pseuds/ThreadSketchier
Summary: The ending ofThe Last Command, with way less expository dialogue and way more honey-nut feelios.  Hey, IT'S ME.





	Plotting Course

**Author's Note:**

> Because apparently rewriting Zahn one scene at a time is my life now, hahawelp.
> 
> You can consider this linked to "Exit Strategy" and "A Hard Question" and any other Zahn 2.0 scenes I might do in the future. Shout-out to frangipani for helping me figure out the title. :3

The setting sun bathed Coruscant’s glittering cityscape in gold, a familiar evening sight whose artificial beauty held no significant meaning to Mara every other time she’d witnessed it.  Reconnaissance had often been her chief purpose for observing this landscape, not idle admiration.  But now, in this moment, the towers and their lights, and the unceasing lines of speeder traffic crossing the skies like cells flowing through angular blood vessels, felt profound in their unimportance.  Leaning against the chest-high, wrought-stone railing at the edge of the Palace rooftop, she could take in this quiet yet immense spectacle of urban life for no other reason than her personal enjoyment.

A light, cool breeze played with the few rogue strands of hair she hadn’t bothered to secure.  There was something pleasantly scandalous about the fact that she was also up here to delay her attendance at an official meeting.   _ Let them wait a little longer _ , she thought.  Selfishness wasn’t meant to be a cherished trait, but she was finding it more of an indulgence lately, in these small ways.

Twenty meters behind her, the access door slid open, and she scarcely needed the Force to discern who was coming.  Mara didn’t move, waiting for his footsteps to approach.  When she saw his elbow rest atop the railing out of the corner of her eye, she finally looked aside at him.

To his credit, Luke wasn’t staring back at her, but over the city, just as she’d been doing.  Silently Mara turned her mind’s eye to him in like manner as her new appraisal of the world and tried to see him just as a man - a man who, embroiled in war, had to have lost as much as she had.  What had  _ he _ sacrificed and suffered while she’d been fighting for her sanity and mourning the death of her master and livelihood?

His countenance seemed peaceful but his shoulders were set low, curled in rather meekly, his hands clasped together tightly.  His nervousness and expectation were painfully evident.

Turning his face to her, Luke offered a ghost of a smile and asked in friendly concern, “How are you doing?”

Mara pursed her lips and shrugged.  The hollowness in her chest wasn’t filled with this new world, the place she’d once called home and then been forced to flee.  She was fortunate enough to return and start anew; it hadn’t even begun to mend the gaping wound of her old life, torn freshly open by the damning realization of how pointless it had really been, but the void also held promise.  That void could be shaped and redefined.

“It’s just strange,” she replied.  “This was home, but I didn’t...think of it that way.  Now it’s...not exactly home anymore, but…it could be.”

His smile stretched, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes, an empathy that still unsettled her in its desire to embrace her.  She saw his fingers loosen and got the distinct impression that he wished to reach out and grasp her hand, but resisted the urge.  Part of her appreciated his restraint while the other felt a brief pang of longing for that same connection they’d shared on Wayland.

Luke cleared his throat softly and said, “I know you have a decision to make - ”

She sighed loudly, any potential tenderness between them evaporating.  “You know, Karrde’s an even worse idealist than you, if you can believe that.  It’ll be a cold day in all nine Corellian hells before he’ll be able to hold a smuggler’s coalition together, and think that I’ll have the patience to wrangle them without a body count.”

That drew a sincere, hearty chuckle out of Luke.  “What do you think that says about your choice in companions?”

Mutually they froze at his last word, Mara staring incredulously and Luke’s laughter dying out in a sort of awkward terror.  His cheeks began to flush and it definitely wasn’t the wind.  He swallowed, eyes flicking down to their boots and back up again several times before his features softened with an odd expression between shyness and resolve.

A long woven vest was draped over his tailored black jumpsuit, and something that jutted out slightly from his hip lay obscured beneath it, unlike his lightsaber hooked openly to the sash and belt across his waist.  Pushing aside the loose fabric, Luke revealed another chrome and black cylinder, removing and hefting it in his hand for a moment, then holding it out to her.

“I just...wanted you to have this.”

Mara blinked in confusion.  It was the lightsaber that his clone had wielded.  A practical, though bizarre, trophy; perhaps he was giving it to her simply because he had one of his own and wanted to restore a part of her old arsenal again, having seen her limited experience with the weapon.  “Why are you giving me this?” she blurted.

Luke considered the thing with both a treasured fondness and an anguish that bordered on physical pain.  “This was my father’s lightsaber.  My teacher kept it after he turned to the Dark Side and became Vader, and then gave it to me right before...everything happened.  When my father and I fought at Bespin - before I knew who he was - I lost my right hand and the lightsaber went with it.  I never thought I’d see it again.”

Mara gazed at the weapon with a new understanding that made her hands tingle.  This was Vader’s sword.  Even if he’d constructed it beforehand - which meant he’d been a Jedi once, and that opened an entire new vault of questions -  _ this was Vader’s sword _ .  She had a chance to own one of his instruments, to carry it forward into her life while he was dead and gone.

And yet her petty hatred of him was now tempered with a faint dissatisfaction at the notion of how much more pathetic he’d truly been, beyond what she’d even imagined.  Pathetic but obviously revered, perhaps even cared for by his son.

Small wonder then that Luke could regard her so easily and gently.

“So why are you giving me this, then?” she asked again, itching but bewildered.  If he’d been dismembered while using it, and built a replacement, he had good reason to distance himself from it, but it was still an heirloom and held a great deal of personal meaning to him.

Luke set his jaw and extended it out to her for emphasis.  “Because you’ve earned it.”

Ah.  Now he was speaking her language.  The old endorphins fired across her brain even as her body registered an unfamiliar cognitive dissonance with them; she hadn’t quite expected Luke to say that, but it was something she was accustomed to.  A reward and encouragement for her skills and mettle.  Slowly, with surprising reluctance, Mara reached out to take the lightsaber.  It was heavy and large for her grip, built for a much taller man, but she would learn to work with it.

“But please don’t misunderstand me,” Luke added, and she saw that his eyes were pleading.  “Not everything has to be earned.  There’s so much potential in you to learn the ways of the Force, Mara, on your own terms.  But there’s more to you than what you can prove.”  He came half a step closer.  “You’ve overcome, Mara.  That’s enough.”

She gazed back at him, the lightsaber’s hilt warming to her touch, the ridges of its grip digging into her palm.  “I’ve got a long way to go,” she murmured.

He nodded, that hesitant smile returning.  “I know.  But you’ve started.  I guess...I just want you to know you don’t have to walk that path alone.”

His hand closed over hers around the lightsaber, warm and rough, and squeezed, thumb stroking once across her knuckles.  Then he released her, and with a silent wistful farewell in his eyes he turned away and walked back toward the door.

He wasn’t expecting her to make a choice now, she realized.  He was well aware of her impending, inevitable duties to the burgeoning Smugglers’ Alliance.  This was less of an expectation and more of a vow, the same one he’d given her just outside of Mount Tantiss.  He was going to be there, no matter where she went.

“Hey,” she called out before he could shut the door behind him.  Luke pivoted on his heel, eyes sparkling like the city lights.

“Hang on a minute, I’ll come with you.”


End file.
